


cyclamen

by kierstynmcclements



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hanahaki AU, M/M, Sad, Why Do I Write So Much Angst, idk what the ending is gonna be yet this is still a work in progress my friends, im sorry, tw! vomiting n blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierstynmcclements/pseuds/kierstynmcclements
Summary: There are some battles you must face alone, but he refused to let this be one for me.





	1. Chapter 1

Gripping the rim of the sink, I knew that this would be the last time. It had finally grown too large to remain inside, and now it finally wanted out. It had been a while since I left this room, almost two weeks. I’m sure my friends and family are worried about me, but I couldn’t let them see me like this. No, I wanted them to only see me as the person they’ve always known me to be. The person who acted like he was the best in front of enemies, but broke down from insecurities in front of friends.

 

The person who was always smiling and flirting with everyone, but didn’t truly believe he deserved to be loved. The person who was able to joke around with his friends during the long hours of school, without having to leave every few hours to go puke in the bathroom. That version of me seemingly died long ago. The version of me now is weak. The growth in my lungs had limited the oxygen levels in my blood enough to make my legs unable to carry the weight of the rest of my body.

 

The puking changed from every few hours to hourly, to half hourly, to every few minutes. The colors of the parasitic flower glaring brightly from the bowl of the toilet. I didn’t want the people who loved the old version of me to pity this version. This one would get the gentle hands on shoulders, the whispers and glances in the hall, and the questions, asking if I was okay, or if I needed to go to the nurse. To avoid all that, I shut myself in my room and attached bathroom, and cut off all communication with those outside.

 

That, of course, worried the people in my life, considering I stopped going to school, stopped going to practice, and ignored my best friend since I was born for longer than an hour. I’ve never been able to hide anything from him, so I decided that not talking to him at all would be better. Based on my google searches, the problem, was a parasitic flower, which had planted itself inside my lungs, which would grow, restricting my breathing and eventually collapsing my airways. There were online rumors that it came from unrequited love, but there was no evidence to prove or disprove it.

 

The disease, known as ‘hanahaki”, was uncommon. How one obtained the disease was still unknown, and there was no known cure. There was a surgery to cut down the plant, to gain more time to be alive, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. Eventually the stems and branches grew with a hardness that would be impossible to be cut through while still inside a human being. If they made chainsaws small enough to fit inside a human lung, perhaps it could be a more reliable option.

 

If my friends knew I had this disease, they would beg me to get the procedure done as many times as I possibly could, but I’d rather not have to go through multiple surgeries just to delay the inevitable. So it’s better for them not to know, and for them to remember the person I was just a few weeks ago, instead of the shell of a human I have become. As I stood in front of the sink, stained with a weeks worth of blood and coated in cyclamen flowers, and looked in the mirror at what had become of the happy person I once was, I could tell that in a few hours, it was likely I would be dead.

 

The thought of that used to give me chills, but the growth in my chest burned. It hurt to breathe, and to move. The relief my death would bring now outweighed the fear that once was within me. The image in the mirror began to blur, so I sank back down onto the cold, tiled floor. I miss talking to people, and as conceited as it sounds, I miss the sound of my own voice. Ever since I’ve known I’ve had hanahaki, it hasn’t sounded the same to me. More hollow and cracked. The usual sarcastic tone had been falling flat for days before I stopped talking all together. Blamed a sore throat, until I stopped going out in general. The real reason was fear. It would be too easy for a flower petal to escape from my mouth if I talked and laughed like nothing was wrong.

 

The worst thing, I believe, was not telling my mom. My mom had been there through everything with me, and shutting her out hurt, maybe more than the plant enclosed in my body. The idea of telling her, the mental image of seeing my mother cry, knowing that she couldn’t do anything to help me is what held me back. I didn’t want to be the one to crush my mothers spirit, not while I was alive. So sad, alone, and dying I sat, on my bathroom floor. My phone buzzed on the rim of the tub, and I figured I could check it one last time before I finally passed.

 

Moving as little as possible, I grabbed my phone and entered the lock. Two hundred and forty seven missed messages, thirty eight missed phone calls and 15 voicemails, on top of notifications from apps I don’t use. The messages and voicemails from him, I knew, would hurt the most to check. If our roles were swapped, I know he would tell me what was happening the second he knew he had the disease. I know he would help me in the rough moments, the moments like these, if I had had the guts to just tell him.

How would I have told him? How would I have told my best friend that I was going to die and that there was nothing he could do about it? Judging by the number of texts sent by him alone, I knew he was having just as hard of a time with my radio silence as I was with not answering. My eyes watered as I read through all the things he wrote, all the times he said he would help me, that he just needed to know what was wrong. My death would be hard on him, I’m sure. Maybe as hard as it will be on my mother.

 

After reading all the messages he gave me, I wanted to answer, wanted to let him know that I’m okay, even though I’m very far from okay. I want to see him again, want to remember his face in my last moments before death. The look on his face if he saw me now though, would be nothing but betrayal and pity. The two looks I never want to see on his face would be the only possible way he would look at me now. But I needed it. I needed to see him, I don’t care if he tries to take me to a hospital or if he tells everyone how much of a coward I am.

 

My fingers trembled as they tapped the screen, signaling for my friend to come over, that it was urgent. I knew he would be here within a matter of minutes after I sent it. I just wanted him to be here, to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be fine, to help me get the dumb flower petals out of my mouth. I wanted him to run his fingers through my hair while I slowly escaped the confines of my body into the realm known as death. I heard the sound signaling the message had gone through.


	2. Chapter 2

It was seconds afterwards that I heard the tone, showing that he had read it, and responded. Knowing that it wouldn’t be long for him to arrive, I began crawling towards the door to unlock it. Those movements were probably some of the most painful things I had ever done, even though I had broken bones and torn ligaments before. Moments after I successfully unlocked the door, I heard the light footsteps of my favorite human.

 

Just before I heard the footsteps reached the outside of my door, I began coughing up petals, choking on them, unable to breathe. I heard the door click, and immediately felt his hands helping me, rubbing my back and pulling the spit and blood covered petals out of my mouth, allowing me to take a shaky breath. He said nothing, just sat next to me, easily knowing just what I needed in order to be able to breathe. 

 

For the first time in a long while, I cried in his arms while we sat on the floor. We stayed that way until I had to move to throw up more flowers into the already stained bowl of the toilet. I know he wanted to ask me about it, so after the petals finally eased, and I could take shaky breaths, I leaned against the wall, and looked at my best friend. He wasn’t looking at me with pity, or with disdain. The only emotion I could find within his eyes was determination. That look, I’ve known for many years.

Like the time we decided to try a new sport together, and he was determined to be the best. Like the time I fell out of the tree, and he was determined to carry me all the way back home to clean the cuts on my hands and knees. Or when I would get too focused, and he would drag me out of the gym with a determination level that matched my own. And that time when I almost hit an underclassmen, because I was so scared that he was going to take the spot I worked so hard to get, and he was so determined to make me realize that I was good at what I do, and that he was proud to call me his partner. 

 

The memories of all the times I had seen that face, hurt. They were situations that were possible to get through together. This one, however, I knew, would be a battle I would face alone. For the first time since birth, this would be something that my best friend would not be able to come in, be determined to help me, and I would be able to overcome it. Another wave of petals came flurrying up my windpipe, and I hunched over the toilet once more. He moved with me, rubbing my back, probably to ease the pain of the vomit. With his voice just above a whisper, he finally spoke. 

 

We’ll get through this, Oikawa. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” If I wasn’t already crying from the pain of the petals, I would have started then. He thinks it’s his fault for not being here, when really, it was because I never told him. I can’t believe I thought he would pity me. He was never one to pity, not even after my knee accident. Everyone else told me to take it slow, make sure that everything was fine, but he was the one who told me it was my fault for overworking myself, that I should hurry up and get better, he wanted to practice with his partner again. It wasn’t long after he said that, that I had began moving around and doing my physical therapy. Once I was done ridding myself of another hundred petals, I leant back against the wall.

 

“Thanks for coming to help me, Iwaizumi.” My voice was shaky and underused. It didn’t sound like it was coming from me. That’s not what I sounded like, no, I sounded confident and flirty. Nothing like the scared and injured whine coming from my throat. I guess I wasn’t the only one surprised at the sound of the voice i could once call my own. Iwaizumi looked at me like a deer stuck in headlights. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to talk at all, let alone thank him for coming to help.

 

“Don’t call me that. You never call me that.” His eyes were red as they looked into my own. Well that didn’t make sense. Why was he upset that I finally stopped calling him by the nickname I gave to him when we were kids? He was always asking me to start using his last name. What a strange thing to be upset over when there were much more pressing issues to be upset over. I furrowed my brow to express my confusion without having to speak. On top of it not sounding like me, it hurt to talk, the flowers making my throat very raw, and the burn of the acid from my stomach didn’t help much. He slid down the wall and sat against it, opposite of where I was.

 

“You have never listened to me about calling me by my last name, don’t do it now, not when you look like you’re about to die, Tooru. Don’t do that to me.” Oh. So he was capable of crying. Through everything we had been through, I had never witnessed Iwaizumi crying. Not when he broke his arm trying to catch a beetle in a tree. Not when I broke his favorite video game. Not even when his grandfather died. So why? Why was he crying over me? I didn’t want to see him crying over me. The Iwaizumi I knew didn’t cry. 

 

Then again, the Oikawa he knew wasn’t hours away from choking on flowers. Everything changed from the moment I got hanahaki. Iwaizumi cried. I puked flowers every so often. I didn’t go to school, we didn’t talk. I wasn’t strong, he wasn’t invincible. We were no longer the pair of best friends whose biggest worry was the next tournament. As much as moving hurt, I had to get closer to him. Slowly, I began to slide along the wall to where he was. After a few moments of agony filled movement, I laid my head on his shoulder. 

 

Many memories were made while in the exact same position. Millions of my own tears were shed against the skin my cheek rested on now. He had been there for me in my moments of weakness. It was only fair that I did the same for him. His hand gripped my own tightly, as if I were to disappear if he let go even a little. I let my mind wonder, if I were to die like this, with his hand in mine, and my head against him, if I would be at peace when I passed. The way we’re situated is a setting that I have always felt comfortable in, just he and I, together in our own little world. My mind had decided that I would be most relaxed if this is the way I died, but I figured it wouldn’t be fair of me to die with Iwaizumi in the room, so I’ll probably ask him to leave right beforehand.

 

“Tooru, why didn’t you tell anyone? There’s the surgery and pills and-and- there’s a lot that we can still do. We can-“ There it is. The bargaining, the attempt to fix all my problems. Certified Iwaizumi Hajime move right there. I shook my head with a grimace on my face. 

 

“It’s too much pain just to delay the inevitable. This way, I’ll die when I’m still me-“

 

“Don’t say that you’re going to die. We’ll figure something out. You will not die, Oikawa. Do you hear me? You can’t. We haven’t gone to college and beaten Ushijima yet. You haven’t shown the national volleyball stage what real setting looks like yet. You haven’t gotten married, and have a family of your own yet. You can’t die. Who else is going to be there for me without me asking? Who else is going to set me the perfect toss from a ridiculous spot on the court? There is nobody in the world who will ever understand, and know me the way you do, Tooru, you are not allowed to die.” 

 

Tears push their way out of my eyes, racing to see which can reach the hem of my shirt first. Iwaizumi moves, so that he’s in front of me, straddling my legs and holding my shoulders in his hands, putting us face to face. I can see him clearly now, see the puffiness of his eyes and the snot running out of his nose, and he can see me, bloody, crying and sad. And in the moment our eyes meet, it is just us.

 

Us as toddlers, chasing around beetles and butterflies, and swimming in streams, and climbing trees and having sleepovers, catching fireflies and eating s’mores. 

 

Us as elementary students, helping each other with homework, and movie nights with whispered secrets and over buttered popcorn, and the start of a new hobby together.

 

Us as middle schoolers, with first relationships, fights, makeups, more homework, and more time outside passing a ball back and forth, and the acquisition of a net thirty two feet long to practice at home.

 

Us as first years in high school, practicing and practicing and injuries and healing and tears, and yelling, until movie nights returned, with shared blanket forts and more popcorn.

 

Us as second years, practicing and adjusting, laughter, and flirting, healing and passing insults and stolen food and sharing stories at lunch time.

 

Us now, as third years about to graduate, more practicing, more failure, more tears, more injury, flowers and flowers and flowers and they won’t go away the flowers won’t go away and there will be no more us after today cause I am going to die and it’s because of these dumb flowers and I want them out out out why won’t they get out I want more time together please don’t make me go I don’t want to go- 

 

Lips on my forehead makes that particular train of thought cease immediately. 

 

“I can see the gears turning in your head, Oikawa. Stop thinking so much. I’m here to help you, let me figure this out, okay?” I nodded shakily, unable to tell him it was my way of saying goodbye. Instantly, a new surge of petals shower onto my lap, and I’m choking again, there’s no air and I can’t breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

This is the end, I think to myself. This is it, this is when you die, and you’re making Iwaizumi see it. You’re such a bad person, and an even worse best friend for making him see this, Tooru. Get your shit together, and breathe, goddamn it. You can’t die with him here, he’ll blame himself. It’s already your fault that he cried, if you had just let it be, and died without telling anyone, it would have been better, but you’re selfish, you needed to see him. 

 

Eighteen years, we’d been together. I wonder if he regretted it, now that he’s watching me die in my bathroom. The petals are endless, my chest aches, my stomach is rolling, my throat feels as if it has been doused in kerosene and set aflame. My eyes are watering too much to see clearly, but I can feel the callouses of my friend’s hands on the small of my back, easing me over to the toilet, and hear the soft hum of his voice, trying to ease my panicked state. I can tell, just from the sound of his voice, that he is as scared as I am. As I struggle to gain control of the flowers, I think about how he must feel. His best friend of eighteen years, after weeks of ignoring him, texts him asking him to come over.

 

When he gets here, I immediately spit up flowers. During the time that I recover, I tell him I am going to die, and he, after eighteen years of being together, cries in front of me. Then I start choking again, and it is likely that I will die soon. I should have never texted him. Weakly, I push him from me. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he can’t see me die. My attempt does nothing other than irritate him. 

 

“Oikawa, stop being dumb and let me help you. I know you’re scared, but it’ll be okay.” I’m not scared, I haven’t been for days. I’m worried what will happen if you’re here. Leave, Iwaizumi. I can’t speak, the flowers are still coming. My vision is blurring. The lights are too bright, sounds are too loud, I can feel him touching me and I can feel the flowers entangling my life force and holding strong. I know that this is when I’m meant to die. But for some reason, I won’t. The cyclamen flowers glare at me from where they are around the room. The coughing and heaving slows, and I can breathe again, if only for a moment, I can breathe. 

 

Everywhere except where Iwaizumi’s hand rests hurts. I need more, more relief, him touching me, more more more. Give me more. I take his hand and wrap it around my throat, and instantaneously, the pain eases. I gasp, trying to get the air I lost from puking. Large amounts of air enter my mouth, very little makes it to my lungs. I take his other hand, and rest it on my chest, where my lungs would be, and then more air is there. I can breathe now. Iwaizumi is furrowing his brows at me, but does it nonetheless. 

 

“Where your skin touches, the pain stops.” I whisper, in-between the gulps of air. In an instant, he yanks his tee-shirt over his head and wraps his body around mine. The relief comes so quickly, I moan quietly. I haven’t been able to breathe this well in weeks. Tears of joy roll down my face and I grip Iwaizumi’s shoulder. The tops of his ears are pink and his skin is warm, and I can breathe and we’re going to be okay and why didn’t I tell him earlier? I hold onto him like a lifeline, and he is. He is my lifeline and he will always be my lifeline, and boy does his skin feel nice. 

 

“Iwa-chan-“

 

“Just shut up and breathe, dumbass. Thank me later when we find a permanent solution. I’m gonna sit up now, okay? This position is awkward.” I nod dumbly, and even though he can’t see me, he begins to move, and I attempt to follow his movements the best I can. I’ve always been close to Iwaizumi like this, always side by side. Our friends used to joke about how we were inseparable, but looking back, I can see that they’re right. We have always been inseparable, I don’t know what life without him is like. How will his life be if I- when I die? 

 

Iwaizumi was right, this wasn’t a permanent solution. We couldn’t just spend the rest of our lives holding each other. I may not feel the pain, but the flowers are still inside, still growing and damaging the body I inhabit. It’s strange really, to think that I “inhabit” a body, but in all actuality, it’s the truth. We all are only the brain inside the skeleton inside the skin. Our bodies are not us, but only the brain is, but if something happens to the body, we die anyway. I bring my attention back to the intake of my breath, and the way Hajime’s skin feels against my cheek. It makes me shiver from the difference in temperature. He radiates heat, and I have been nothing but cold for days, lack of circulation within my veins. 

 

“Holy shit, Oikawa, you feel like an ice cube. Have you been this cold the whole time? Let me- I gotta do something about this- Do you want my- No, it’ll be covered in shit, and I like that shirt-“

 

“It’s fine, Iwa-chan, I’m kind of used to how cold I am now. I don’t even tremble anymore.” That clearly was not the right thing to say.

 

“Trembling? Crappykawa, that means you’re way too cold and have been for far too long. Let me just- Hm. Maybe you should take off the vomit and blood stained shirt, and I can go grab- No that would ruin another of your shirts…. A blanket maybe? Shittykawa, do you have any blankets you dislike?” I shake my head in response, I only had the comforter and the knitted blanket Iwa-chan’s mom made me. 

 

“I’m fine, really. You’re plenty warm enough-“

 

“Me? This is just my normal- wait.” I waited. I could feel his muscles tense beneath my cheek. I could count freckles on his back. I wouldn’t mind taking my time and counting all of them, even if it took years, if it meant I could touch more of his skin. I felt his fingers wrap around the bottom hem of my shirt. He pressed his lips close to my ear.

 

“Raise your arms, this thing is disgusting.” I did as he said and lifted my arms, and he tugged the soiled shirt off of my frame. Goosebumps rose on the skin, newly exposed to the cool air of the room. After he got rid of the fabric that once stuck to my skin, he wrapped his arms around my midriff and the warmth surged through my body. 

 

“I’m going to stand up, you trust me, right?”

 

“Entirely, with my life.” It’s true. There’s nobody in the world I trust more than him. He knows more about me than my own mother. His grip on me shifts as he goes to stand. His hands slide under my thighs, hoisting upwards, causing me to wrap my legs around him. His forearms rest just beneath my butt to help hold me in place against him. I can feel his breath against my neck, warm and calming. It hits me, then. Iwaizumi is my home. He is the place I want to always come back to, the place I feel safest. 

 

Something told me you shouldn’t feel that way about your best friend. I doubt he felt I was his home. I was probably a burden to him, like this. Sure, he may want me to get better, but friends always want each other to get better after an illness. The grip I held him in loosened slightly. He was probably doing this out of obligation, because he was the only person I had contacted in weeks. He was the only one who knew what was happening to me, the only one who could aide me. 

 

I wonder if he wishes I texted someone else… The warm touch of his skin begins to burn. He isn’t here because he wants to be, he’s only here because he’s the only one who knows! The pain that was once eased now returns, multiplied by the fire of his skin on mine. No, no, no, it was helping he is my home and I was going to be okay and- I wince. Iwaizumi immediately tenses.


	4. Chapter 4

“Oikawa, what’s going on?” I need to ask I need to know.

 

“Why are you here, Iwaizumi? Why did you come? You didn’t need to, you could have left me alone, in the bathroom to die.” He stops moving, the burn multiplies, it’s almost reaching the point of unbearable. Iwaizumi stays quiet for a minute, thinking about his response. Deep down, I know why, I know he is only here because he is a good person, and he couldn’t knowingly let someone die. 

 

“You needed me, Tooru. I’ve been doing nothing but worry about you for days, not knowing if you were alright, or if you were lost, or if you were even alive. My mom’s been freaking out about me, because I haven’t been able to eat, or sleep, I’ve been a walking zombie without you. I don’t tell you much, but I need you just about as much as you need me. In my mind, there is no me without you by my side. You say I didn’t need to come, that I could have just left you, but I couldn’t. I don’t know how to live without you, I’ve never had to. When you texted me, I couldn’t just sit any longer, because you needed me.” His voice cracks as he speaks, raw and full of emotion. 

 

I know, then. I understand, just how close we are to each other, however close to him I feel, he feels the same. To me, he is the AC on a hot summers day, the satisfying sound of a serve making contact with the floor, the feeling on my fingers after a perfect set, the popcorn during the movies and the stars in the sky on a dark night. I know nothing without Iwaizumi. I don’t know what the stars look like, or what a set feels like, or the sound of a serve or the taste of popcorn, or the chill of the AC. The pain withdrawals, as fast as it returned. My tears roll down his back. 

 

“I wouldn’t be complete without you, Oikawa. I need you too. I need you too.” He’s crying again, I can feel it. My heart aches, from knowing I made Iwaizumi cry twice in one day or from the flowers inside, I’m not sure. I don’t know who I’d be without him or if I’d even be here without him. Knowing the path I was headed on two years ago, I don’t think I would be here, if I didn’t have him. 

 

“I love you, Iwa-chan. I think I always have. I think I always will.” I feel my heart pounding. I wonder if he can, too. He starts sobbing into my shoulder. Okay, good job, Oikawa, you’re an awful person. 

 

“You’re so shitty, you know that?” He says, in between intakes of air. 

 

“You tell me all the time.” It’s true. 

 

“I hate you.” He doesn’t.

 

“No, you don’t.” He really doesn’t. 

 

“Shut up.” I shut up. We stayed that way, for a minute. Clinging to each other, crying, in the middle of my bedroom, flower disease long forgotten. Then, Iwaizumi moves and suddenly the soft plush of my bed rests against my back and Iwaizumi is laying on me and I am home, and I am warm. I trace my fingers over his back, connecting the freckles in my brain to make constellations. It has been too long since I have felt this content, warm and comfortable with my best friend. In the back of my mind, I imagine us, in the same position, but caused by a different, happier circumstance. We were somewhere new, perhaps our shared apartment, with a bed bigger than my own. 

 

Glances thrown over shoulders and laughs and gentle touches against skin, eyes glazed over with an emotion I cannot name. Whispers pressed against the skin, where lips touched and secrets weren't kept behind walls. I knew how many freckles he had and what all of his skin felt like, and he knew all the little things about mine. He would make coffee in the morning, and we would dance in the kitchen with sock clad feet and no music. We cried very little, but smiled often. 

 

Us, in our own world. Happy, and together. No trace of deep blue flower petals, no blood. The sound of Iwaizumi snoring brings me back to the reality, of me with hanahaki, and of Iwaizumi sleeping on top of me. It is not until then that I realize how tired I am, from having to wake up every half hour to get rid of petals before now. Even with the weight of my best friend on my chest, my eyes droop and I fall asleep shortly after. I dream of white clouds and green grass, and young children playing tag. When I wake, the light that was shining through my curtains has dimmed, and is now a soft orange. 

 

I can feel Iwaizumi’s fingers gently untangling the curls in my hair. He is humming a song I haven’t heard in what feels like years. It is a song about a pair of lovers afraid of loosing each other. How strange, I thought, to hear my best friend hum a song about love, when he’s never talked about it? I wonder if he’s ever fallen in love… I could ask him, but he seems so at peace, with his hands in my hair and the song on his lips. Where would this Iwaizumi go, when I died? Would he play with someone else’s hair and hum a different song? Or would he disappear like the flowers within me? For some reason, I didn’t like either of those options. I wanted to be the only one who got to see him like this. 

 

Nobody else should know the feeling of his fingers twisted in their scalp, or the sound of his voice when the note was a little too high for his range. The idea that someone else might get to experience this pissed me off. There was not a single person other than me who deserved to see Iwaizumi when he was like this, vulnerable and open. Not even Hanamaki or Matsukawa. I blow a puff of air out of my mouth, signaling my irritation. Iwaizumi instantly stops. Shit, I didn’t mean for him to stop. He looks up at me.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.” He shifts so that less of him touches me. 

 

“Hey, have you ever been in love?” Well, that was not what I meant to say. I guess it was out there now, and he would answer. He looked at me with his mouth open, unsure how to respond. I wonder if me telling him I loved him earlier is making him feel bad that he doesn’t feel the same. It was fine, I wasn’t expecting reciprocation, I just wanted him to know, in case I did actually die. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. I should have just kept my mouth shut, and just kept imagining that things were different. 

 

“Yeah, I have.” Who had stolen Iwaizumi’s heart? I wanted to ask, I wanted to know. I wanted to, even if it hurt me. But I wouldn’t. Maybe he’ll tell me anyway, or maybe he won’t. My heart ached, but I smiled at him. 

 

“That’s good, you’re not a total brute, Iwa-chan! You do have a heart somewhere in that big body of yours!” Yeah, that’s good, Oikawa. Go for the normal answer. Go back to normal, pretend it never happened. 

 

“Oikawa.” Oh yeah, that’s right. He can see through every façade I can think up. For some reason, I wish my flowers would come back, come back and take my life away while I’m here, safe in his arms. I don’t want him to look at me different. Please, no, I can’t handle him telling me he doesn’t feel the same. I know he doesn’t, it’s fine, I was fine. Just let me stay in his arms for a little longer, and then I’ll take my punishment, and I’ll die, please, just don’t take Iwa-chan from me. I can feel the petals inside still. They’re there, and they won’t let me forget it. 

 

Maybe hanahaki is from unrequited love, and there is no cure, and he’ll tell me he doesn’t love me, and I can just die. I closed my eyes, knowing what was soon coming. It was fine. I accepted it. He’ll tell me that some pretty girl in our grade had stolen his heart away, and that they were going to the same college, and he was glad that they had similar interests so they will have classes together and he’ll be happy with her, and I’ll smile and tell him that I’m glad for him before I choke on my own creation. He’ll feel guilty for a while, but his girlfriend will comfort him, she’ll hold his hand at my funeral.

 

And then she’ll help him pick up the pieces I left him in, and they’ll have the shared apartment, and they’ll dance in the kitchen after dinner, in their socks, and he’ll smile and laugh, and I’ll be fine, cause I’ll be dead. She’ll see this version of Iwaizumi, my version of Iwaizumi, except it isn’t mine. He never was mine. 

 

“Tooru.” God, why did my name sound so good coming from his mouth? That was unfair. I know he wants me to look at him, but I can’t, I can’t look him in the eye while he tells me he loves someone else. My throat started to close up again. I couldn’t. I thought I could, I thought I would be fine. I thought I would be fine with him knowing, I thought I could handle him not loving me back but- He runs his fingers through my hair again, and my brain stops functioning properly. Only he would know that would calm me down. 

 

He knows everything now. There is no secret I have that he does not know. Slowly, I open my eyes. He is already looking at me. I’m okay with dying like this, Iwaizumi massaging my scalp and looking at me like I am the stars in the night sky. Say it, I think. Get it over with. Take my heart out, and destroy me. I’ll be okay if it’s you. You can hurt me anyway you please, and I’ll still be okay with it, because it is you, and I love you, and you know now.

 

The cyclamen flowers glared at me from the bathroom, I could see them out of the corner of my eye. I knew it would be soon. Iwaizumi’s eyes were beautiful. They were the color of honey and caramel, and he always looked at me like he could see exactly what I was thinking. I only hope they are the last thing I see before I die. What an awful thing to think, when those same eyes are staring right back into my own. 

 

“Tooru.” Don’t say my name like that. Don’t say it like I’m the only reason you’re alive, and you need me. Don’t. If you do that, you’ll only make me love you more. I wonder how I looked right now, in his eyes. Messy hair, probably still knotted and gross, dull eyes and pale skin from the hanahaki. Maybe I still looked like me, the cheerful, bright, volleyball captain, who was always by his side. His hand moved from my hair to my cheek. For a spiker, he had soft hands. I never realized how soft they were, calloused and well used, yes, but soft all the same. His thumb brushed against my cheek. 

 

“You’re stupid if you think I’ve had time to fall in love with anyone who isn’t you.”


End file.
